Gods At War
by albino-ottsel
Summary: The time has come for Round 2 with the Dark Makers and this time, our heroes will need all the help they can get. Grudges must be pushed aside, reinforcements must be called in, and an untapped power must finally be unleashed. But as more of the Precursors' history comes to light and old hostilities fester and boil, will the planet's defenders stand together or fall to pieces?
1. Prologue

Once upon a time, the secret of the Precursors was just that: a secret. No one knew what they were or where they came from. No one knew the full extent of their powers. No one knew why they all vanished. The only thing anyone knew was that they existed. Someone had to have left all those temples and artifacts and weird statues, right?

Many generations have studied the remnants of the Precursors' ancient civilization, but very little was known about them, even after hundreds, nay, _thousands_ of years of research. The written word as it is known now is only a couple hundred years old. The most ancient of texts are still indecipherable, completely unrecognizable from today's script. What modern humans know about the Precursors has remained largely unchanged for millenia.

Then, one day, that changed. The Precursors were revealed for what they really were: ottsels. Small, furry, over-compensating-for-the-above ottsels. And it gets better: they weren't just little fuzzy rats. No, they were little fuzzy rats that could channel Eco as easily as the heart pumps blood. They were little fuzzy rats that _built planets_ and _ran the universe_. One day, everything anyone knew about Precursors was turned on its head.

It's been three long years since then. Outside of a select group of people, the secret has stayed intact. After all, who would believe that their gods' true form was short and hairy and could easily pass as a common house pet? And what kind of chaos would it wreak if the truth were to become common knowledge?

So, yes, if you want to get technical, the secret of the Precursors is still a secret. But really, with a temple full of monks and a dozen others knowing the truth, and being personally acquainted with half a dozen of the Precursors themselves, how much more can there possibly be to discover about them and their history?

A lot, as it turns out.


	2. Encroaching Darkness

Running. He was running. _Why_ was he running? He couldn't even remember. All he knew now was that he was running, running through pitch-black, ice-cold darkness and trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his side and the desperate fear in his mind.

Behind him, he heard the pounding feet and heavy breathing of his pursuer... or pursuers. He didn't even know, and he didn't dare look. Dropping to all fours, he picked up speed. Or at least he hoped he did. All he saw around him was darkness, nothing to gauge his speed. He could have been running in place for all he knew.

Finally, there was a break in the darkness. Ahead of him was a shaft of light. Slowly but surely, he was getting closer. Whatever was chasing him wasn't about to let him get away so easily, however, and he felt the hot breath on the tip of his tail and heard the snapping of jaws.

He was almost there. The light was almost blinding now. Squinting his eyes, he thought he could see the silhouettes of two others rushing toward the same spot, coming from two different directions. And then suddenly, he was falling.

* * *

"Ow!"

"You okay, Dax?"

The ottsel rubbed his head. A few minutes ago, he'd been sitting on his buddy Jak's shoulder as they were walking through Haven City. Now he was lying face down on the ground. Irritably, Daxter got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his fur.

"Dax?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Daxter said, jumping back onto his friend's shoulder. "Guess I just nodded off there for a minute."

"If only it could have lasted longer than a minute," squawked the reason they were out there. Flapping along beside them was Pecker, a monkaw and interpreter for Haven City's resident mystic, Onin. He had been sent by his master to fetch the duo, and was accompanying them back to the tent on the city's outskirts.

Daxter glared at the bird. "Shove it, you feathery asshole."

Pecker looked slightly taken aback. Normally they traded a few more witty barbs before descending into profanities. "Jeez, _someone's_ pissy today."

"You'd be pissy, too, if you fell flat on your face. Here, why don't we test that?" Daxter grabbed at the monkaw, who squawked and flew up higher. The ottsel jumped after him and managed to grab onto his tail. Pecker let out a screech as the sudden weight nearly yanked off his tail, but managed to stay airborne.

"Leggo you flea-bitten pile of shit!"

"Make me, you winged jackass!"

"Knock it off, you two," Jak said as he rolled his eyes. It was like babysitting two particularly foul-mouthed toddlers. Finally, Onin's tent was in view. Daxter begrudgingly let go and dropped to the ground. Pecker flew into the tent, followed by Jak and Daxter. Onin was waiting inside, as was the local Green Eco Sage, Samos.

"Onin says thanks for coming, morons," Pecker said as he took his usual perch on Onin's head. The old woman made a face, but did not otherwise comment.

"Oh great, Grandpa Green's here," Daxter noted.

"Onin has had a vision," Samos explained, ignoring Daxter's comment.

"Nice to see you, too, Samos. Get your twig trimmed?" Daxter asked.

"Will you pipe down? This is important," the sage snapped.

"When is it ever _not_-"

"What's wrong, Samos?" Jak cut in. He had a bad feeling. Onin having visions was nothing new; she was psychic, it happened all the time. Which means if it was being brought up, something serious had happened, or was going to happen.

Onin's hands began to glow blue and she began to make hand signs in the air. Sparks trailed off her hands as they moved, staying in midair momentarily before fading away.

Pecker shifted to get a better view before speaking. "Onin says a dark shadow is going to cover our world. The land of fire will turn into a land of ice, the earth will bear death instead of life, and the skies will blacken. You forgot 'the rivers will run red with blood'," Pecker added.

Samos smacked the bird upside the head with his staff. "This is no time for sarcasm, Pecker!"

Daxter grinned, but one glare from Samos sent it back into hiding.

Grumbling, the monkaw rubbed his brand-new lump. "Alright, alright, sheesh. Onin says that the time that we have long been dreading has finally arrived. The..." The monkaw trailed off. He gulped. "No, no, Onin, you can't be... you're not serious!"

Gravely, Onin repeated her last sentence. Shakily, Pecker whispered, "The Dark Makers are returning."

Jak and Daxter exchanged looks. This certainly wasn't what they were expecting. Jak looked back at the old woman. "So? We took them on once, we can do it again!" Jak hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. The Dark Makers had been the toughest adversary he'd ever faced in battle.

Samos shook his head. "It's worse this time, Jak."

"Onin says..." Pecker's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Onin says that they have amassed their entire army. They are out in full force and are aiming to utterly destroy us."

"Yeah, not that I don't believe in cryptic prophecies of doom, but has anyone actually _seen_ them coming and not just read about it in tea leaves or something?" Daxter asked. Of course, he knew very well that cryptic prophecies of doom were usually true, but he preferred to be skeptical for as long as possible to stave off the panic.

"I have used the Astro-Viewer in the forest," Samos said. "They are within view, and their force is every bit as massive as you would expect."

"Well, shit," Daxter moaned.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Jak asked. Taking down _one_ of their ships and _one_ of their Terraformers was difficult enough. How could he protect the planet from a whole army of those things?

"Our only hope is to harness the power of the Precursors to its fullest extent," Samos said, "And, if possible, contact the Precursors themselves."

"Onin says you should go to Spargus. There, the world's foremost experts on all things Precursor reside. If there's anyone who can get the planet ready for what's coming, it's them. If anyone can defend us now, it's them." Pecker looked at Jak despondently. "And of course, you."

"No pressure or anything," Jak said. He looked at the ottsel on his shoulder. "Well, c'mon, Dax. We've got an air train to catch."

"Wheeeee," Daxter replied. "Can't wait."

* * *

The trip out to the Wasteland gave Jak some time to think. When the Precursors left, they'd mentioned that his actions had turned the tide against the Dark Makers, and that they could win this war. He didn't know why, but at the time he'd felt like that was it. The Precursors were back on top and didn't need him to do their job anymore.

Evidently, he'd been wrong. They'd all been wrong. The Dark Makers were coming back, and this time they weren't fucking around. But why did they care so much about this little planet? Were they after revenge for their defeat? Or was there something more?

The air train touched down outside Spargus and Jak stood up. Next to him, Daxter fell over. The ottsel had fallen asleep and had been leaning on him for most of the ride out there. Jak knelt down and gently shook the ottsel. "Wake up, sleepyhead, we're here."

"Gah!" Startled by his friend's touch, Daxter was jolted awake in an instant. "Don't _do_ that, Jak!"

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," Jak said.

"What, scared? Me? Pffft, nah, I wasn't _scared_, I was just, uh..." Daxter mumbled for a second, "just, um, on guard! I was, uh, dreaming about... Metal Heads! Yeah, I was kicking some serious Metal Head ass and then suddenly, boom! You're all up in my face."

"Uh-huh," Jak replied. He offered his arm and Daxter climbed up onto his usual spot. "Well, there's no Metal Heads in sight, so you can give those ass-kicking skills a rest for awhile."

Daxter was unusually quiet for a few moments as they walked toward the city gate. Finally, the ottsel spoke. "Hey, uh, Jak. You, uh... You been feeling... different, lately?"

"Different?" Jak looked at his friend. "Not... really. Why?"

"Nothin', it's just, I've been, like, picking up this... weird vibe or somethin', recently." What Daxter didn't mention was how it seemed to get stronger whenever Jak was near. He just chalked it up to the fact that Jak was a weirdness magnet. Plus, dude was intense. _Everything_ got stronger, or more real, or more _something_ whenever he was around.

"Weird how? Good, bad?"

"Just... _weird_. I dunno, forget I mentioned it," Daxter said.

It was at that point in the conversation when they entered Spargus. Its garage, rather. One thing about the city that hadn't changed in recent years, the municipal garage also acted as a vestibule for the whole city. Luckily the municipal mechanic, a.k.a. Kleiver, a.k.a. Monumental Asshat, happened to be out at the moment. That was good. The less time spent in his company, the better.

Soon they were within the city proper and on the elevator up to the palace. Before tracking down the monks, Jak wanted to talk to Sig, the king of Spargus and his friend. They hadn't seen each other in awhile, and besides, Sig would need to be told what was going on eventually. Might as well be now.

"Hey there, chili peppers!" Conveniently enough, Sig was already in the throne room and, upon hearing the elevator, got ready to greet whoever was visiting. Meaning he had his gun in his hand in case it was an assassination. Hey, a guy's gotta be careful, right? Of course, seeing Jak and Daxter put any thoughts of fighting to the death out of his mind.

"Hey, Sig!" Daxter jumped from Jak's shoulder to Sig's. If Daxter was the type to play favorites, Sig would be one of his favorite friends. Rough and tough, but a sweet guy at heart and generally polite, unless you did something to piss him off.

Sig scratched the ottsel's head affectionately before looking at Jak. "What brings you two all the way out here?"

Jak wanted to smile at his old friend, but he couldn't. Not with the end of the world weighing on his mind as it was. "Wish I could say this was just a friendly visit, Sig."

Sig frowned and looked at Daxter. The ottsel was looking grim now too. This couldn't be good. "What's up?"

Jak gave an abbreviated version of Onin's dire prophecy. Sig listened in silence, and stayed silent for some time after Jak finished. Several times Daxter tried to get him to talk, but Jak always shushed him. Sig needed the time to think.

At last, Sig spoke. "I'm gonna call Seem. Sit tight, chili peppers, I'll be back in a bit."

Sig pulled out his radio and wandered to the other side of the room, out of earshot. Daxter looked at Jak. "Ya think the monks will really know what to do?"

Jak shrugged. "I hope so, otherwise..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

Daxter sighed loudly. "This is _so_ not how I wanted to spend my Saturday. I miss my Tessie-poo."

"You were just with her a couple hours ago," Jak reminded him.

"So? I can't help how I feel, and I feel empty without my sweetie here!"

"And I feel nauseated whenever you two are together."

"You and Keira aren't any better, pal."

"Bullshit!"

"Hate to break up your marital spat," Sig said as he approached them, "but Seem said she'll be here shortly, and she's bringing our best and brightest when it comes to ancient Precursor lore. Which means-"

Suddenly, the elevator sprang to life. Gears turned and clanked as the wooden lift descended several floors to the bottom of the shaft that had been blown out of the rock so long ago. Despite Spargus's steps toward modernization, the old technology was still in use. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" was one of the many Wastelander mottoes, it seemed.

"Huh, that was fast," Daxter said. A distant thud signaled the elevator's arrival at the ground. "How close was she?"

"She was in the monastery, actually, halfway across the city," Sig replied. "But she probably just told everyone to meet up here to save time. But I gotta warn ya-"

"That reminds me, Sig," Jak said. "You guys still have access to the catacombs, right?"

"Yeah, but listen, cherry," Sig said, glancing at the elevator nervously, "there's something I wanna tell ya before-"

"Long time no see, Jak."

Every muscle in Jak's body tensed up. Sig rubbed his forehead, hoping to massage away the impending headache. Daxter bared his teeth and was likely ready and willing to use them if necessary. Slowly, and trying his hardest to keep his temper in check, Jak turned.

Kleiver was standing there, sneering at Jak and leaning on his gun. But the Wastelander wasn't Jak's concern. The devious, manipulative, scheming, cruel, and downright _evil_ brown rat on his shoulder was.

"Veger."


End file.
